February 09, 2018

I Do Hope There’ll Be Cake

Those of you who keep track of these things will know that today is this blog’s eleventh birthday. It’s not a round number, I know, but it is a tissue-thin pretext to remind patrons that this rickety barge is kept afloat by the kindness of strangers. If you’d like to help it remain buoyant for a while longer, there’s an orange button below with which to monetise any love. Debit and credit cards are accepted. For those wishing to express their love regularly, there’s a monthly subscription option top left. And if one-click haste is called for, my new PalPay.Me page can be found here. Additionally, any Amazon shopping done via this link or the search widget top right, or for Amazon US via this link, results in a small fee for your host at no extra cost to you.

For newcomers wishing to know more about what’s been going on here for the last decade or so, and in over 2,000 posts and 75,000 comments, the reheated series is a pretty good place to start. If you can, do take a moment to poke through the discussion threads too. The posts are intended as starting points, not full stops, and the comments are where much of the good stuff is waiting to be found. It’s the way we do things here. And do please join in.

I just saw a weather balloon bobbing gently in the sky. I thought those had been replaced by drones. Maybe they’re testing something new. I live near a large Air Farce base whose mission is R and D. Anyway, I suggest we all view this conveniently timed test flight of whatever-it-is as the U. S. Government’s way of recognizing the birthday of this fine Allied blog. 🎂

I'm a recent convert to the convenience of Amazon Prime. I know there are few other Canucks out there, an amazon.ca affiliate link wouldn't go amiss. If I can buy socks and support the Mother Country at the same time, that's just a bonus.

I feel your pain. It’s one of those events that, while fairly unimportant in the great scheme of things, is intensely maddening. And as the spiral progresses down the entire roll, reducing the useable surface area at a rate of knots, the frustration escalates, until you’re much too infuriated to have any hope of fixing the bloody thing. And so you just stand there, swearing, surrounded by 30 metres of now-useless foil.

It’s not a round number, I know, but it is a tissue-thin pretext to remind patrons that this rickety barge is kept afloat by the kindness of strangers.

Why are numbers that are multiples of ten or a hundred or a thousand privileged over other numbers, and over prime numbers in particular? Eleven is a great number, an interesting number, a diverse number. Bugger this oppressive decinormative bullshit; prime numbers matter!

It’s one of those events that, while fairly unimportant in the great scheme of things, is intensely maddening. And as the spiral progresses down the entire roll, reducing the useable surface area at a rate of knots, the frustration escalates, until you’re much too infuriated to have any hope of fixing the bloody thing. And so you just stand there, swearing, surrounded by 30 metres of now-useless foil.

America has reached a new high in lunacy: U.S. pharmacy chain CVS is now refusing to accept its own coupons.

You globetrotters—is there anywhere else less nutty I could retire to? My requirements are minimal: decent infrastructure, access to medical care, reasonably stable government. Would appreciate being able to practice my religion in public but will go into the catacombs if I have to. I’ll learn the language if it’s not English or Spanish. Suggestions?

[...] all the racist politicking from the black supremacists over Black Panther has crushed any enthusiasm I had to go see it.

That's too bad, as it's likely going to be the last really good superhero movie before the entire genre collapses into self-parody and low-budget long-form television.

From what I've seen, the politicking is orthogonal to the movie itself, which cleaves pretty closely to the original Hamlet-esque premise. There's a lot of rah-rah Wakanda-our-history-and-legacy stuff, and it's intended as Afrocentric boosterism, but if you just take it straight up with no subtext the movie works fine. After all, it's just Wakanda that hyper-advanced. The rest of the continent is still a sh*thole.

But, hell’s bells, all the racist politicking from the black supremacists over Black Panther has crushed any enthusiasm I had to go see it. Great job, guys.

Quite. And it’s not just the hotep Twitter contingent. The actors, writers and director have made such pretentious and cringeworthy noises, piling their baggage high and invoking “white supremacy,” that I’ve been actively repelled by the people whose job is to make me want to turn up and hand over money.

Someone (Hal?) posted a bunch a while ago and I started appending to the list...

May the grip-strip of your ‘resealable’ cheese wrapper never tear away in your hand the very first time you use it.
May your heels never require the attention of a dampened pumice stone on the eve of the local swimsuit modelling competition.
May your furnishings always be spotless, and the gin always plentiful, when the mother-in-law descends.
May your neighbours never copulate with such enthusiasm that they can be heard while you’re trying to complete a customer satisfaction survey.
May your window cleaner never startle you while coffee is being poured.
May your online grocery orders never be compromised with unwanted substitutions.
May your brand new roll of kitchen foil never stick to itself and then tear in a useless spiral.
May your squeezy talcum powder container never spring a leak, thereby projecting said powder over every nearby surface except the intended one.
May you never be faced with a choice of watching Finding Bigfoot, Hitler’s Jurassic Monsters or When Pedicures Go Wrong.
May your never discover that the exotic, neglected condiment at the back of the fridge, the one that you’re finally about to use, actually expired several years ago.
May the smell of fried onions never linger when houseguests descend.
May your tights remain orderly and your woollens never bobble.
May your sock drawer remain organised even in times of crisis.
May your smalls retain their shape after many, many washes.
May your towels never be darkened by unwanted houseguests.
May your toilet roll remain dry even after your other half has had a suspiciously long and thorough shower.
May your towels remain orderly even in times of crisis.
May your sandals remain fragrant on the hottest of days.
May your socks never be mispaired, however hastily they've been thrown in a drawer.
May your fridge remain fragrant despite the most potent of cheeses.
May your towels never lose their fluffiness, even after many washes.
May your towels remain fragrant after even the lengthiest spell in storage.
May your bathroom tissue never lose its structural integrity at an inopportune moment.
May your chains set lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that you were our countrymen.
May your sandals remain fragrant on the hottest of days.
May your toaster bottom remain free of combustible crumbs.
May your visit to the supermarket never be blemished by accidentally picking up slimline tonic water.
May your fridge remain fragrant despite the most potent of cheeses and regardless of sell-by dates.
May your towels stay fragrant when houseguests descend.
May your sandals remain fragrant on the hottest of days.
May your bathroom tissue never lose its structural integrity at an inopportune moment. Even if it's single-ply and heavily discounted.
May your car’s glove compartment never be bereft of wine gums or lemon-scented antibacterial hand wipes.
May your upholstery never discolour in places that are hard to conceal with carefully positioned cushions.
May your earbud cables never tangle, even after being stuffed in a pocket and jiggled about at length.
May your coat sleeve remain free of grease when carrying fish and chips home.

David, may your valid coupons always be accepted without argument, even by those who issued them.

In my search for Sane Shangri-La, I have already ruled out the following:

—Japan, obviously; if you’re seeking less nuttiness, Japan sure ain’t the place to look.
—Ecuador. I don’t know how nutty the citizenry is or isn’t, but I do know that if you’re not a member of a race adapted to high altitude, you can live at high altitude for years, and then with no warning develop a deadly form of altitude sickness so that you must descend permanently.
—China. I don’t know how nutty the citizenry is or isn’t, but I know their air is so polluted you can slice it with a knife. I’m surprised they aren’t cutting it into blocks, shipping it over here, and selling it.

I want him to write a book. And then there’ll be a movie. The tinfoil scene alone will be worth the ticket price.

Just to make it clear, I’m not looking to retire abroad just because of CVS. They were merely the okay-that’s-enough moment of 35 years of constantly increasing lunacy.

You’d think CVS’s business model was, er, unique, but in fact, in all 50 U.S. states a business can refuse to accept a straight customer’s coupons, or money, so the issue must have come up somewhere, sometime, before. Whether a business can do the same if a gay customer attempts to make a purchase is a question kicking around the courts right now. (So far all cases involve bakeries, no drugstores.)

Here’s a meaty question: what’s so special about Candy Crush? There are a lot of jokes about the man-hating Human Resources ladies playing Candy Crush all day. If they did, they’d get pretty bored; the last time I read one of those jokes I got curious and tried it; it’s just another of many, many match-3 games.

Also, computer mavens, why ARE there zillions of match-3 games? Are they particularly quick and easy to program? Just curious.

Anxiously awaiting Foil Battles, where the hero and his henchlesbians struggle through 100 levels of increasingly difficult food-wrapping, with occasional bail-outs from tough spots by The Other Half who wields the deadly Incininerator.

(I now have enough games and puzzles to make my 2-hour commute zip right past, but while shopping, believe it or not, I saw a game where the player runs a fast-food place.)

David, what was the long-expired condiment? I’ve noticed mustard and miso last forever, but ketchup has a short lifespan, as does Miracle Whip.

At least in the U. S., where the survey was conducted, researchers found that whether a woman used mayo or Miracle Whip mainly depended on which one her mom used. I had a Miracle Whip mom, and yea, verily, once I used 2 fast-food packets of Kraft mayo to devil a few leftover Easter eggs, and they just didn’t taste right.

Ehn, bgates posted a list of May your . . .---and that seems to be where May your chains set lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that you were our countrymen. came from, with jabrwok posting originally. I pointed out to do a search for May you . . . as well.

Apparently there is also:
May your duvet always remain equally distributed throughout the duvet cover.
may your baubles shine brightly and free you from the dangers of warble gloaming and the Moonbat. ---Albeit that one was a comment to David rather than from.May you never be short of deodorant.
May you never be mocked on laundry day by that defiant single sock, somehow overlooked until it was five seconds too late.
May you always find your roasting tin spotless and ready for use.

The list of blessings may actually be rather short. That bit of tool use got only four pages of responses, and also notes that another someone else's comment of may your wives be infected with the camel's ear parasite and they become barren. was all the way back from 2007. Apparently at that point there was already an archive.

Really? I was under the impression that ketchup had a nearly infinite lifespan. I used to marvel in my youth how bottles of Heinz in diners were (sometimes annoyingly) almost always full. Then as I entered my drinking years and spent a few too many late nights closing down a Denny’s or two or three or four how at the end of the late shift, waitresses would stack bottles on top of each other to drain. It occurred to me that at the bottom of many bottles was ketchup that was likely many years old. Yet I never heard of anyone getting sick from such.

I can’t remember now. Something Chinese or Thai, I think. It was probably bought during a fit of enthusiasm for adventurous cooking, which isn’t my area of expertise, then sat neglected, gathering dust. It was only unearthed during a belated clear-out of cupboards and fridge compartments, during which I found several items of almost archaeological age.

Ecuador...you can live at high altitude for years, and then with no warning develop a deadly form of altitude sickness so that you must descend permanently.

You don't have to live at the top of the mountain. Guayaquil is at sea level, and Santo Domingo is a lovely town in the foothills, at around 2,000 feet. I have a cousin in Cuenca, which is way too far up in the sky (~8,000 feet) for my comfort.